


Fear and Loathing in San Francisco

by findanegg



Category: Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998)
Genre: Gen, Modern AU, Parody
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26325871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/findanegg/pseuds/findanegg
Summary: Raoul Duke and his Samoan compadre bring their inimitable style of gonzo journalism into the 21st century. Depictions of Raoul Duke, his Samoan compadre, their inimitable style of gonzo journalism, or the 21st century may not be entirely accurate.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Fear and Loathing in San Francisco

We were somewhere around San Francisco on the edge of a Starbucks when the overpriced coffee began to take hold. There was a terrible roar all around us and the cafe was suddenly full of twee indie guitar madly digging itself into my ears, screaming nonchalantly about the angst of young white heterosexual love, and a voice was screaming "Holy Jesus! Who charges 15 dollars for a breakfast sandwich?" Did I say that out loud? No matter, I ordered the sandwich and whatever they had made earlier that was now stale and chilled enough for me to tolerate (and condescendingly informed I was referring to what was known in those parts as a "cold brew").

Hurrying to an available seat, I tried to distract myself from the awful din of pseudo-surf rock and casual conversation that surrounded my entire being. I was sweating horrendously. I had no idea how longer I could complete this journey alone; Gonzo had viciously abandoned me only several minutes earlier. In an attempt to ground myself, I pulled out my Moleskine bullet journal and scanned my barely intelligible scrawlings, grocery lists, and meditation logs to jog my memory of the reason my boss saw fit to send me to this gentrified slum of perversion, degeneration, and fixed-gear bicycles. As I took another sip of my "cold brew", my mind raced back to that pivotal moment.

I was composing another Top 10 list at my workspace in the open office plan that had disturbed my efforts to compose my thoughts in a somewhat isolated environment. The barbaric Viking-longhall style cork table was meant to host up to 6 of my coworkers, and still could in theory, but my strategic use of toenail clippers had nulled permanently any depraved attempt at workplace camaraderie, and left me a desk six times larger. As I was working on a particularly obnoxious talon, an urgent ping hastily drew my attention back to my computer. It was an email from Gonzo, my trusted Samoan compadre who kept warning me that if I called him that one more time he would report me to HR. (He never has.)

_(2:04 PM) Scarza@buzzfeed.org: Hey Hunter, just got assigned big story in SF. New startup manufacturing testosterone supplement milkshakes. You wanna come along?_

I responded hastily, making sure to preserve as many keystrokes as I could. Typing for extended periods happens to be detrimental to the human body, as you know. This is why my columns on the Buzzfeed website are composed mostly of Tumblr screenshots of Instagram posts of Reddit comment sections, with little editorializing solely for the purposes of journalistic integrity.

_(2:07 PM) raoulduke@buzzfeed.org: sounds magnificent, my samoan compadre. we leave tomorrow, you pay for gas and amenities like always._

This arrangement never seemed to bother him. 

**Author's Note:**

> (Originally written on a personal Discord server. Partially influenced by the similar work A Confederacy of Dunces.)


End file.
